Distortion
by mirari1
Summary: After starbursting to avoid an attack, Moya and her crew become trapped in a spatial anomaly. Inside, they encounter two potential allies, at odds with each other, who both offer their assistance. The question becomes, which one is lying? Chapter 3 up!
1. Attack

Spoilers: Takes place during season 4, pre-UR. Anything up to and including CBC is fair game.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were mine, never will be mine, I'm not getting paid for any part of this.

Feedback is appreciated!

Two metras off Moya's hammond side, the wormhole twisted silently into being. It gnawed ravenously at the fabric of reality. Space, and time, and probability flexed and melded at its margins.

John Crichton smiled a little in satisfaction. He was getting better at this. He continued to gaze steadily out the forward portal, into the core of the electric-blue vortex. He felt relaxed, unconcerned, distanced. A part of his mind vaguely wondered how many of those emotions could be attributed to Granny's distillate of laka. He dismissed the thought as irrelevant. Wormholes. That's what mattered. Wormholes.

"Your predictions are becoming more accurate. Have you nearly perfected the equations?"

He was jolted from his reverie by Sikozu's sharp inquiry.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, almost. Just a few more bugs to work out."

Crichton watched with interest as the Kalish's expression morphed from curious to calculating.

"You know, your research would progress far more quickly if---"

"No. No no no no no, we have been over this. I do not want Scorpy's help."

D'Argo addressed Sikozu from across the room. "You've asked him that question every day for the past monen, and every day he gives you the same answer. Why do you keep asking?"

Crichton wasn't sure why D'Argo stayed on command. Unlike Sikozu, he had no interest in wormholes. He supposed that, as elected captain, D'Argo felt responsible to ensure that Crichton didn't frell anything up in his pursuit of wormholes.

Sikozu replied in her haughtiest tone, with an exasperated glance at Crichton. "I ask, in the obviously ill-founded hope that he will one day recognize logic when it bites him on the eema."

"Pip's right, we have expanded her vocabulary," Crichton muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"No idea what you mean. Hey Sparky, what's up?"

Rygel drifted into the room on his throne sled, grumbling quietly to himself. Crichton noted with faint amusement that he looked even more ill tempered than usual.

"Are you nearly finished with this foolishness?" Rygel demanded peevishly of Crichton. "I'm starving."

Sikozu rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You have three stomachs. You are always hungry."

Baiting Rygel was one of the few forms of amusement Crichton still enjoyed. "Better be nice, Buckwheat, one day wormholes will get you home."

"You're completely fahrbot!" Rygel snapped. "How can wormholes get me home when you don't even know where we are?"

Crichton grinned impishly as he retorted. "Aw, come on Ryg, have a little faith. Don't you Dominars believe in---"

BOOM!

Crichton was knocked to the floor by the massive concussion that shuddered through Moya. He clumsily tried to regain his footing. "What the frell was that?"

"I have no idea. Pilot!" D'Argo yelled. "What the frell was that?"

Pilot appeared on the clamshell. His usual polite, collected demeanor seemed somewhat frazzled. "Moya is not certain. We appear to be under attack, but we do not know by whom."

Sikozu gaped at Pilot, arrogant even in the midst of impending panic. "How can you not know, you incompetent---"

"Whoa, Sputnik, cool it!" John interrupted. "Pilot, why don't you know," he rephrased, trying desperately to keep a level tone.

Pilot shot a venomous look at Sikozu. "Radiation from your wormhole is obscuring Moya's sensors," he explained to Crichton. He stressed the 'your' almost imperceptibly.

Crichton's knees buckled as a second explosion reverberated through Moya's hull.

Aeryn and Chiana stumbled onto command, choking on smoke as a nearby power conduit exploded in a shower of sparks. 

"Is everyone all right?"

"Who the frell is shooting at us?"

Crichton replied, lapsing into the familiar sarcastic humor he only utilized in periods of stress. "Well, no one knows for sure," he drawled, "but if I hadta guess, I'd put my money on those guys." He jerked a thumb at the forward portal as a sleek, fearsome-looking ship blew past. It loosed a barrage of energy pulses, and tore away for another run. Moya shuddered under the impact. "Looks like we have a winner!"

D'Argo ignored Crichton's slightly hysterical outburst. "Pilot! Get us out of here now!"

"Initiating starburst."

For a moment, Moya appeared to be etched in light. She lanced forward into space.

Back onboard, the crew tried to collect their scattered wits, and assess the most obvious damage.

Chiana sidled up to Crichton as he worked at clearing debris from the floor. "Who d'ya think they were?"

Crichton laughed cynically. "Who knows? Peacekeepers, Scarrans, bounty hunters, perfect strangers, who hasn't taken a shot at us lately?"

He paused to watch D'Argo pace the floor impatiently. "Yo! Jean-Luc! What now?"

"I don't know John. Pilot! Where the frell are we?"

"Why bother asking?" Rygel griped, "No one ever knows."

Pilot pointedly ignored the former Dominar. "Though Moya is unsure of our precise location, she is aware that the space in this region is distorted most unusually. Also, a number of other vessels are located in the very near vicinity."

Aeryn swiveled to glance out the forward portal as Moya executed a sweeping turn. "Pilot, what kind of---Oh frell."

The hulking dark mass of a Scarran Dreadnought loomed before her. Large enough to dwarf even a Peacekeeper Command Carrier, it hung menacingly in Moya's path.

"Oh frell," she repeated. 


	2. Trapped

All disclaimers/spoiler warnings still apply. Thanks to all who reviewed!

"Dreadnought," Rygel whispered fearfully.

"No!" Sikozu protested sharply. She scrambled to thwart reality with logic. "Scarrans never travel in Tormented Space. They should not be here!"

"Yeah, well, they are," Crichton retorted. "And, um, why aren't we running away?"

His gaze was fixed on the forward portal. The view outside remained static. Moya was not moving.

"Get us out of here now, Pilot!" D'Argo roared.

"Ka D'Argo, I'm afraid Moya is unable to starburst again so soon."

"I'm not asking Moya to starburst, I'm asking her to move!"

Pilot responded calmly, impervious to D'Argo's rising anger. "There is no reason for alarm. The Dreadnought is not functioning. Moya detects no life forms on board."

Crichton continued to watch the Scarran vessel. He decided that, functioning or not, he didn't like its looks. "A ghost ship. Wonderful. We've found the freakin' Mary Celeste of where ever the hell here is. Can we leave now?"

D'Argo regarded the Dreadnought suspiciously. "Is Moya absolutely certain that ship is dead?"

"Quite certain," Pilot replied with well-disguised irritation. "It poses no threat. Moya senses numerous other such vessels in this region of space. Look!"

The crew turned its attention to the forward portal as Moya banked left. In addition to the massive Dreadnought, a Peacekeeper Command Carrier, a Nebari cruiser, and a thousand smaller craft from as many different species rotated into view. Some were battle-scarred, covered in energy burns and missing chunks of their hulls. Most were perfectly intact. 

"Damn," Crichton muttered, "What the hell happened here?"

"Who cares," Rygel snapped. "Let's leave."

"For once I concur with the Hynerian," Sikozu agreed. "Let us leave, before whatever happened those craft happens to us." 

"Agreed," D'Argo began, "Pilot---"

D'Argo was thrown from his feet for the second time in the past arn as Moya began bounce and rock violently.

"Frell! What's happening now?"

"Pilot!"

"What the yotz…" Rygel happened to be facing the forward viewport. "Wormhole," he hissed.

Crichton gazed in awe. One of the blue vortexes had materialized barely five metras from Moya. It was a true monster, far out-sizing the specimen he had been studying earlier. It churned up the surrounding space, casting a lurid blue glow over the abandoned hulks. As Moya's crew watched in fascinated horror, it disgorged a small alien ship similar in design to a Prowler. The fighter craft tumbled end over end through the void, clearly out of its pilot's control. It impacted with the side of the Dreadnought, and annihilated itself in a puff of orange flame.

"Frell," Chiana breathed.

The wormhole spiraled back into nothingness, and the turbulence subsided. Crewmembers hauled themselves wearily to their feet. 

"Well, that answers one question," Crichton said quietly. 

Pilot spoke from the clamshell. "Moya and I feel very strongly that we should evacuate this area immediately."

"No arguments there, Pilot," Crichton replied.

D'Argo grunted in agreement.

Moya accelerated quickly away from the mass of abandoned ships, and the terrible phenomena that accompanied them.

Nearly an arn later, Pilot summoned D'Argo to command. "What is it now, Pilot?" D'Argo asked grumpily as he stepped through the doorway.

"There is something Moya and I think you should see."

Crichton and Sikozu were already examining the view through the forward portal. D'Argo took in the panorama as well, with a mixture of surprise and alarm. "Another Dreadnought?" 

"The _same_ Dreadnought," Sikozu corrected condescendingly. "This Leviathan has been flying in circles for the past arn."

"No," Pilot replied testily, "Moya has been flying a straight-line course. It is space that is curved."

Sikozu sniffed cynically. 

"Pilot, what does this mean?" D'Argo asked.

"It means," Crichton said, "that we're stuck."

"The commander's interpretation is correct. Until we are able to determine the extent of the distortion of the space in this region, and discover a way to navigate it successfully, we are unable to leave."

D'Argo growled a little in frustration. "How long will this take?"

"I do not know."


	3. New Arrivals

Scorpius examined his surroundings warily as he emerged from the transport pod into the interior of the Dreadnought. The ship's docking bay was enormous. The sounds of the pod's arrival had barely echoed, instead fading smoothly into dismal silence. The air smelled stale, and the floor was blanketed thickly with dust and debris.

Crichton, D'Argo and Aeryn exited the pod behind him. Crichton whistled in appreciation of the immensity of the enclosed space.

Scorpius addressed his shipmates without turning. "Data recordings are most likely stored on the bridge."

"Which way is that?" Aeryn asked.

Several steps behind, D'Argo quietly unsheathed his Qualta blade. Crichton watched him curiously. "I thought Pilot said this ship was deserted."

D'Argo's eyes flicked towards Scorpius. "You really want to take chances?"

Crichton grunted in agreement and drew Winona.

Scorpius turned to face the others. His gaze rested momentarily on the drawn weapons, but he made no reference to them when he spoke. "The command bridge should be in that direction, as removed as possible from the engines and main generator." He gestured towards a nearby corridor with a gloved hand.

"After you," Crichton said with mock solicitude.

Scorpius snorted, but began picking his way in the proper direction around the mounds of debris littering the docking bay floor. He studied the ship's interior with equal parts interest and distaste. It had been many cycles since he had last been aboard a Scarran ship. After his final escape he had dearly hoped never again to see the oxygen side of a Dreadnought's hull. Although this craft was far older than any Scarran vessel he had previously encountered, there were still enough similarities between this ship and the current model to awaken unpleasant memories of his childhood with Tauza. He growled and shook his head to clear it.

Crichton brought up the rear of the small party with D'Argo. He trailed his hands lazily along the corridor walls, which were decorated in a crimson scale motif picked out with black and white detailing. His fingers brushed lightly against an exposed power conduit. A blue-white crackle of energy leaped out in response.

"Ouch!" he yelped. "This thing still has juice!" He stuck his singed fingers in his mouth.

Scorpius, who had halted at Crichton's outcry, responded. "The ship's generators could continue manufacturing energy for hundreds of cycles yet. I would, ah, advise against touching any more exposed power couplings."

"Thanks, Obi-wan, for that timely advice," Crichton muttered.

They had only moved a few yards further down the passageway when Scorpius stopped abruptly. He narrowed his eyes and listened closely, as the others behind him paused. Crichton winced internally. He had heard that sound far too often since his first trip down a wormhole. Weapons' fire echoed dimly through the stale air.

"Looks like we have company," he drawled.

They moved cautiously to the end of the corridor, where they could see into the room beyond. It was at least as dusty as the docking bay. Worse, most of the dust had been stirred into the air by its occupants, severely limiting visibility. Footsteps pounded on the metallic floor, then died away. The firing of a single pulse weapon shattered a period of relative silence.

"What now?" Aeryn asked softly.

"Dunno," Crichton replied. "Who's shooting?"

"I can't see. There's too much debris in the air."

"Think they know we're here?" D'Argo asked.

"Doubtful," Scorpius answered. "Otherwise, they would most likely--"

He ducked rapidly to avoid a pulse blast. The sound of gunfire seemed to increase in volume as the shots were aimed at the entrance to the passageway.

"—be doing that," he concluded dryly.

Crichton, Aeryn, D'Argo, and Scorpius flattened themselves against the corridor wall.

"Why is it that everyone we meet is trying to kill us? Didn't your mama teach you not to shoot at strangers?!" Crichton yelled his last remark into the room at their unseen assailant. He was answered by an irritated round of pulse fire.

"Antisocial space invaders," he grumbled.

"Cover me," Aeryn said abruptly. She ducked into the room, and disappeared amid clouds of dust and smoke. D'Argo and Crichton leaped to the entranceway and began firing into the haze.

Aeryn drew her weapon as she sprinted, sliding to a crouch behind a conveniently located console. Pulse fire ripped into the wall behind her, smoke from the seared metal making her eyes tear. She could hear John and D'Argo's covering fire, but she still couldn't see their attacker. 

Suddenly, silence.

A metallic chirrup issued from across the room, followed by a quiet "Frell!"

Aeryn stood and leveled her pulse rifle at the source of the noises. Crichton and D'Argo followed her lead, Scorpius, unarmed, trailing slightly.

"Whoever you are, put your weapon down and stand where we can see you. You will not be harmed," Aeryn said steadily.

A Sebacean man stepped through the haze into view. His dark hair was mussed, and what could have been minor radiation burns dotted his face and hands. He wore the uniform of a Peacekeeper officer, and his standard-issue pulse rifle was pointed directly at Aeryn. "Traitor," he hissed.

"That weapon's out of charge," she stated coolly, registering no surprise at the man's appearance or his greeting.

The Peacekeeper sneered in reply, then tossed the rifle to the floor.

"Name and rank."

He remained silent.

Aeryn crossed the distance between them in two strides and jammed the business end of her pulse rifle into his chest. "I will not ask again. Name and rank."

The Peacekeeper stared at her contemptuously for a moment before answering. "Officer Bren Levrik, Kelmnar Regiment."

Aeryn removed her weapon from his chest and stepped back.

"What were you firing at?" D'Argo demanded.

He regarded D'Argo with lazy superiority. "I don't answer to prisoners and traitors."

"He was firing at me." The voice was a low growl, interrupting before D'Argo could respond.

D'Argo, John and Scorpius whirled to face the new arrival. A large male Scarran emerged through the dust. His hands were extended to show they were empty, and he was bleeding freely from a large wound on his arm. "Peace. I am unarmed."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes and exhaled sharply in surprise.

"This your ship?" Crichton asked.

The Scarran kept his eyes fastened warily on Levrik. "No. This vessel disappeared cycles before my birth."

"Why was Cap'n Crunch over there trying to make you into Swiss?"

The Scarran looked helplessly at D'Argo. 

"Why was the Peacekeeper shooting at you?" D'Argo translated.

"Because he is a Peacekeeper," he answered, as if surprised at Crichton's notion that there had to be another reason. "Why are you here?"

Scorpius stepped forward. "We are searching for data necessary to escape the spatial anomaly. I, ah, don't suppose you could direct us to the relevant datachips."

"Peacekeeper," the Scarran growled, noticing Scorpius for the first time.

Still being held at gunpoint by Aeryn, Levrik laughed cruelly. "That half-breed? Hardly. In fact, I understood he had been executed. Rather a shame I seem to be mistaken." 

Scorpius snarled at Levrik.

The Scarran eyed Scorpius guardedly. "If you are not Peacekeepers, I will assist you."

"Under what conditions?" D'Argo asked warily. Nothing had ever come for free, either in the Uncharted Territories or Tormented Space.

"When you leave, provide me with transport to the nearest neutral commerce planet."

"Sounds reasonable," Crichton said. "Assuming you deliver."

"My ship is in the treblin side hangar. Return to your craft and meet me there in half an arn."

D'Argo grunted affirmatively and the Scarran turned and exited into the corridor.

"What should we do with him?" Aeryn asked, jerking her head slightly to indicate Levrik.

"Take him with us," John suggested. "Maybe he knows something."

Aeryn prodded Levrik in the back with her pulse rifle until he stood in front of the group, facing the corridor.

"Walk," she instructed.

Levrik looked back over his shoulder to smirk arrogantly at Aeryn. "I hope the Scarran kills you all." He began moving slowly down the passageway. 


End file.
